Back in the more interesting side of this week's episode, Mabry and Leon are having a father-to-son moment. Mabry is all bandaged up. He says he's not going to send Leon away and that they're going to be together forever. Bamboo Heather and I both get chills as Williams and Jackson, who've been listening, go out into the hall to talk. "Arthur, the man is talking about a murder/suicide!" Williams says. "What are we supposed to do?" Jackson asks. Williams paints some gruesome scenarios about what's going to happen. Jackson counters by saying that Leon will be dead no matter what they do. Wait, this just ain't right. Jackson goes on, saying that the murder/suicide will be quick and merciful. Jackson, who is now taking the Of Mice and Men thing way too far, says there's nothing they can do. I'm no MD, but I think that goes against every principle there is in the world of doctoring. "What if there's nothing to save?" Jackson says, and now he's insulted every mentally challenged person in the world. Bamboo Heather gets so mad she storms off to the kitchen where her crude bamboo head falls into the sink.
Jackson goes back in and tells Leon, "Am I your pal? Let's go for a walk." I'm looking to see if he's carrying a pistol behind his scrubs. Leon and Mabry smile at each other angelically and it's just too perfect, except for the fact that it's all disturbing and wrong. Leon takes Jackson's hands and says, "Are we gonna play with the stegosaurus and the triceratops?" "You bet," Jackson answers. It is at this point that John Steinbeck, all gooey from the grave, walks in and, one by one, slaps everyone involved with this scene.
That scene just left a bad taste in my mouth. Sorry about that. Let me collect myself, as...
Dr. "Blair Underwood" Turner is doing exactly what I imagine Blair Underwood does on a Wednesday night -- sipping on red wine, wearing some jeans and a nice red shirt, listening to Stevie Wonder in his tastefully decorated home, and just looking like the most suave, available man to ever walk the Earth in a Kufi hat. Ron Harris has got nothing on Turner's sheer dapper suavitude. Bamboo Heather manages to get her head back on and runs back to watch. The doorbell rings. "Be right there," he says, to no one in particular. Now who could it be at this hour, ringing the doorbell of a successful, attractive chief of surgery? Kufi delivery service? Nah, it's nighttime. Must be...yes, it is. Lilian Price, my, my, my. Oh yes. Hello, nurse. I mean, doctor. Damn. Lookin' fine.